


Stories from Stark Tower

by house_of_lantis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Non-Explicit, Original Female Characters - Freeform, Original Male Characters - Freeform, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The everyday encounters of people who work in Stark Tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fabrication Unit

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that the Avengers actually did have friendships or associations outside of just the Avengers; that they had interesting friendships with non-Avengers. Stark Tower probably employees a couple thousand people, that's a huge pool of people that the Avengers could develop friendships with!

For the most part, Charlie thought that working at Stark Industries was the best gig ever.

SI had a competitive compensation and benefits package, more than generous enough to be able to live in New York City, even if his apartment was the size of a closet. For a tech giant and former military weapons manufacturing company, SI had the most liberal and pro-employee stance. HR was always promoting something: on-site day care, discounted rates for the underground parking garage, domestic partner benefits and access to the company lawyer to set up power-of-attorney paperwork, transgender protected employment policies, and everyone’s favorite: unlimited access to Avengers merchandise. Last week, someone had come by all the offices and dropped off a goodie bag that included an Ironman mug, a Captain America shield keychain, a limited edition Black Widow statuette (which his kid was going to love), a Hulk tee-shirt (that he was wearing under his work shirt), a Hawkeye foam bow and arrow set, a miniature Thor’s Hammer paperweight, and a small plushie Bucky Bear with a silver left arm.

There was nothing better than working the third shift in the fabrication shop, covering the overnight hours. Not only did he get the best pay rate, he liked it because it was a skeleton crew, and everyone on third shift tended to give each other space, gathering together in the lounge area around midnight to have some coffee and gossip, and then head back to their stations to monitor the sixteen fabrication units that seemed to run 24-7.

Granted, the R&D divisions and Tech Innovations departments were constantly sending up pre-fab or fab requests at all hours of the day and night, but the ones that came from Tony Stark always had priority. All of the fabrication unit teams had signed strict non-disclosure contracts, separate from their SI work contracts, since they were the first ones to build out new models of SI tech.

Charlie enjoyed working on models for Tony Stark. Sometimes, they were modifications for the Ironman suits or improved designs for one of the other Avengers. Charlie watched the news and saw a modification that he built on Hawkeye’s quiver harness or a new durable lightweight weapons belt for the Black Widow’s uniform, and he took great pride in that something he helped produce worked in the field, stood up to pressure, and brought them home safe.

His inbox blinked with a new work request and Charlie grinned, seeing that it was from Tony Stark. He opened it and ran the configuration into the fabrication system, noting that Tony Stark was asking for it to be made using elastomer. He moved the work order to unit #12 that handled silicone and set it to run. It would take about an hour to finish and he’d run it up to Tony Stark. He knew that Tony Stark liked getting his fabrication models delivered as soon as they were done.

***

After a rousing game of tag with some of his team members, using the Hawkeye foam bow and arrows, Charlie checked unit #12 for the Tony Stark model.

He opened the hatch and slid out the tray holding the model…and stared at it for a few minutes. It was made with clear silicone and it was 7-inches long and 2-inches around. It was wide at the bottom and seemed to taper up, narrowing in the middle in a spiral, and then widening again with a rounded top.

“Hey, Abe, you want to come over here for a sec?” He called over his shoulder.

Abraham Lewis, the shop’s third shift supervisor-on-duty, wandered over, scratching his beard. “What’s up, Charlie?”

He pointed to the object on the output tray. “What do you think that looks like?”

“Looks like some fancy kind of dildo.” Abe stared at it for a long moment, squinting. “Who put in that request?”

“Mr. Stark.”

“Huh.” Abe inhaled deeply and raised his eyebrows. “Well, better run it up to him. You know he doesn’t like to wait for his stuff.”

Charlie made a face. “I’m not taking that up to him.”

“Look, it’s probably not what you think it is—“

“YOU think it is, too!”

Abe rolled his eyes and walked back to his office. “Just put it in a box and run it up to him, Charlie.”

Charlie couldn’t find a small box, so he carefully put it into a brown paper bag and headed for the elevator, pressing the up button.

The doors opened and Charlie stepped in.

“Hi, JARVIS, I have a delivery for Mr. Stark.”

“Hello, Mr. Robertson. Sir is expecting you in his workshop.”

“Thanks, man.”

“My pleasure,” JARVIS said, closing the elevator doors and moving the car up to the 79th floor.

As soon as the doors opened, he could hear the sound of Suicidal Tendencies “Institutionalized” echoing dully in the hallway to the workshop entrance. Charlie looked through the reinforced glass door, always curious about Tony Stark’s infamous private workshop. Everyone down in R&D and Fabrication knew that Tony Stark worked on his own projects, that he was a more-than-qualified engineer and mechanic. He had a dozen personal projects running simultaneously, had a hands-on approach to his work…and what he had his hands on right now was…Captain Steve Rogers’s pants.

Tony Stark had Captain Rogers up against the edge of a work table. And that was a lot of…tongue action. Both of Tony Stark’s hands were down the front of Captain Rogers’s pants.

The music cut off and Charlie watched as a mortified Captain Rogers broke out of the kiss, saw Charlie watching them, and his face blazed to a bright red. He ran across the workshop, zipping up his pants, and disappeared around a corner.

Tony Stark looked nonplussed by Charlie’s presence. He wiped his hand over his mouth and wore a smug looking grin on his face.

Charlie looked at Tony as he held up the brown paper bag with his hand. The glass door slid open and Charlie stepped inside.

“Hi, Mr. Stark, I have a delivery from the Fabrication Unit.”

Tony Stark held up his hand. “Toss it here, kiddo.”

Charlie tossed it gently. He watched as Tony Stark unrolled the top of the bag and laughed, reaching inside to pull out the dildo, holding it in the air like a prize.

“Steve! It’s fantastic!”

“Shut up, Stark!” Captain Rogers yelled from the other room.

“Awww…come on, Cap, you’re the one who designed it—“

“I’m going to kill you, Tony!”

Tony Stark wiggled his eyebrows and looked at Charlie. “You should fabricate one for yourself, take it home and test it out.”

“Uhh…”

“For God’s sake, Tony, leave him alone! He’s going to complain to HR for sexual harassment!”

“I’m not sexually harassing him,” Tony complained, and then looked at Charlie. “Do you feel sexually harassed? Because if anything, I’m sexually harassing Captain America.”

Charlie shook his head. “No, I’m, uh, fine, sir.”

“I’m calling Pepper!”

“Okay, that’s my cue. Thanks for bringing it up here.”

Charlie grinned. “Sure thing, Mr. Stark.”

He turned to go, nearly knocking into one of the workshop robots.

“DUM-E! Don’t kill our visitor! Get back into your corner!” Tony Stark admonished, laughing gleefully as he hurried across the workshop to where Captain Rogers was hiding. “Steve, come on, look! It’s perfect! Think about how it would look if we made it red, white, and blue! Or maybe even red and gold—“  

Charlie knew that discretion was the better part of valor so he moved carefully around the large, bulky robot towards the workshop entrance.

“Hey, wait a sec! What’s your name?”

“Charlie Robertson, sir.”

“Seriously, Charlie, make one for yourself and take it home and test it out. Send me a report on what you thought of it, how it felt, you know, do a usability report. I’m thinking of starting a line of these and selling them commercially,” Tony Stark said to him and then winked.

“Ohmygod, Tony!” Captain Rogers cried, shocked. “We’re not doing that!”

Charlie stared at him for a moment. “Um…I…”

Tony Stark gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared around the corner, shutting the door but not before Charlie heard him say in a low, purring voice, “now, come to daddy…”

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

Charlie walked out of the workshop and to the elevator. The doors opened and he stepped inside.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, Mr. Robertson.”

“Was, uh, Mr. Stark…serious?”

“Sir is often quite serious about usability testing and feedback, Mr. Robertson,” JARVIS said, a hint of amusement in his polished voice.

“Right,” he said, letting out a deep breath.

***

Two weeks later, he was coming up on the elevator from the parking garage when the elevator stopped at the lobby and Captain Rogers stepped inside.

“Welcome, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS greeted him.

“Hi, JARVIS, my floor, please.”

“Certainly, Captain.”

“Captain,” Charlie said, politely, not meeting the man’s eyes.

Captain Rogers blushed, recognizing him right away. He stood on the other side of the elevator car. “Good evening.”

Charlie had fabricated one, as per Tony Stark’s directive, and took it home to show his wife. They spent a number of fun-filled nights with their new toy and he asked her to fill out the usability report, adding his own comments, recommendations, and suggestions for improvement. He sent it to Tony Stark and then forgot about it.

Four days later, Charlie had come to work and found a thick white envelope with the SI logo, and inside were legal and financial documents giving him 12% ownership in the new line of Captain Iron dildos.

_Captain America Tested, Iron Man Approved! Six new colors!_

Two months later, it was the most popular Avengers branded merchandise. The stores sold out within 24-hours of it hitting the market; Charlie was a very wealthy man. He could retire and easily live on the income from the Captain Iron sales, but he actually really liked working at SI.

It really was the best gig he’d ever had.


	2. Legal

“Hold the door, please.”

Maggie Tsang didn’t look up from her phone screen and kicked out with her foot to keep the elevator doors from closing in on the man with the deep, soft voice heading towards her.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Hmm…” she said, scrolling quickly through the 124 messages in her inbox.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS said, warmly.

Maggie gasped and looked up at the elevator doors and to her right.

“Hello, JARVIS.”

“Did you have a good run through the city, sir?”

“Yes. Thanks. My floor, please.”

Maggie stared at the man known as James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, formerly known as the Winter Soldier. Eighteen months ago, he had surrendered to Captain America and been brought in under the Captain’s protection. Maggie remembered that every news broadcast, printed newspaper, online news and gossip columns ran the story of Sergeant Bucky Barnes’s return. For months, it was nothing but stories about the trial, his prisoner of war status, and the torture and brainwashing he suffered while under HYDRA.

There was even a meme called Sad Bucky, pictures or fan art of Sergeant Barnes with his head ducked down and lips pressed into a deep frown.

Strangely enough, there was also another popular meme dedicated to his hair called Bucky Spotting, where he was photographed in public with his hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail.

Despite the still-warm October weather, the Sergeant was dressed in a burgundy hoodie, baggy enough to cover his metal arm. He wore black gloves and black running pants, a low baseball cap hiding his face, with his hair tied back with a rubber band into a little stub of a ponytail.

He glanced at her and she dropped her phone, startled at being caught.

A quick hand jerked out and snagged the phone from the air. He handed it to her with his palm up.

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a small, nervous smile. “Sorry for…you know…staring.”

Sergeant Barnes simply nodded and stayed on his side of the elevator, looking straight ahead.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad that you…you were cleared of the charges,” she said, softly.

“I killed people for HYDRA,” Sergeant Barnes said, looking at her.

“Yes. You’re a killer, but you’re not a murderer.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Do you want the moral, ethical, philosophical, or legal answer?”

Sergeant Barnes didn’t respond, but she didn’t really expect him to. The elevator doors opened on the 48th floor.

“It was nice to meet you,” she said, smiling at him.

Sergeant Barnes gave her a polite nod before the doors closed between them.

***

Three days later, Maggie was dragging home six international contracts, knowing that she was probably going to have to burn through the early morning hours checking and double checking the contract language, ensuring that Stark Industries’ Asian branches were abiding by the laws of their host countries.

The elevator doors opened and she smiled, seeing Sergeant Barnes. “Oh, hello again, Sergeant Barnes.”

He nodded his greeting to her and stepped aside, making room for her.

“Good evening, Ms. Tsang.”

“Hi, JARVIS, parking level 2, please.”

“You work late.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “I have a lot of reading tonight; better to do it in my pajamas than here in the office.”

“Can I walk you to your car?” Sergeant Barnes said, softly.

“It’s pretty safe in the garage, I mean JARVIS has cameras every…you know what, yes, I think that would be really nice. Thank you.”

Sergeant Barnes nodded and they rode the elevator down in silence, bypassing the lobby where Sergeant Barnes had originally wanted his stop, down to the underground parking levels. The doors opened and Sergeant Barnes waited for Maggie to step out first. He looked around the empty parking garage, sharp eyes looking for potential threats, keeping behind her as she walked to her green Subaru.

“This is me,” she said, opening the trunk and putting down her briefcase and folders. Sergeant Barnes closed the trunk for her with a firm thud. “Thanks, Sergeant.”

He stepped back and waited for her to get into her vehicle. “Drive safe, Ms. Tsang.”

“I will,” she said, unlocking the driver side door and getting in. She started the engine and then rolled down the window. “Hey, Sergeant Barnes, you want to get lunch tomorrow?”

Sergeant Barnes regarded her for a moment. “Yes.”

“Great! I’m in room 4805. Come get me around noon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, see you later!”

***

Sergeant Barnes arrived promptly at noon and knocked politely on Maggie’s door. “Hello.”

“Hi, right on time, let me put on my sneakers. Come on in,” she said, slipping off her heels and reaching for her black sneakers. “Did you think about where you wanted to go?”

She looked up to see that Sergeant Barnes had made an effort to dress nicely. His black pants were pressed, his dark gray sweater looked new, and his hair was brush back into a neat ponytail. Maggie grabbed her bag and grinned at him.

“If you don’t have a preference, I know of a great Korean BBQ place a block from here.”

“Okay.”

***

“We’re being followed.”

She stared at Sergeant Barnes, frowning. “What? Why on earth would anyone follow us?” She turned, looking behind her, trying to see who was following them. She didn’t notice anyone looking suspicious, just a normal crowd of New Yorkers walking to their next destination.

“Are we almost at the restaurant?”

Maggie waved her hand, still looking over her shoulder. “Yeah, it’s just there.” She looked at Sergeant Barnes. “Should we be worried? Who’s following us?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, come on, there’s a line, let’s hustle!”

***

After a 15-minute wait, they got a small table tucked away along the back wall; the small restaurant was already packed to capacity with the lunch crowd, the takeaway window getting even more business. Maggie ordered a simple lunch combo meal for them, explaining to Sergeant Barnes a little about Korean flavors.

“Do you like spicy foods?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, the mandoo isn’t spicy, but the kimchi is, and the stew is a little spicy but if you eat it with the white rice, it shouldn’t be too harsh. Drink the barley tea, it’ll warm you up on the inside.”

Sergeant Barnes wasn’t a talkative guy, but he was polite and he listened well. He asked questions now and then, offered a comment when prompted, but was never really at ease. He continued to scan the room, looking at the faces of people around them, his shoulders stiff as he sat up straight.

“—so I said, ‘but mom, that’s never going to happen because—‘“

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Maggie looked up and blinked uncomprehendingly up at why Agent Natasha Romanoff was looking at her. Behind her was a guilty-looking Captain Steve Rogers.

“Ohhhh…hello,” she said, smiling.

“I didn’t know you had a lunch date, Barnes,” Agent Romanoff said, giving her a cool look.

“I’m Maggie Tsang. I work in Legal. Sergeant Barnes and I are new friends. He walked me to my car last night and I invited him out to lunch.”

“Aww, Buck, that was a nice thing to do,” Captain Rogers said, grinning at Sergeant Barnes.

Sergeant Barnes was unmoved.

“Is that right?” Agent Romanoff murmured, a small smile on her lips. “I’m Natasha; this is Steve.”

Maggie nodded to them. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 Sergeant Barnes glanced up at them. “I have permission to leave the Tower.”

“Of course you do, Bucky, we weren’t—hahahaha…no, no, I was in the mood for…” Captain Rogers said, chuckling awkwardly. “Nat and I were just…walking around and decided to come in for…uh…”

“Korean,” Agent Romanoff said, rolling her eyes at Captain Rogers.

“Right, Korean! Korean?”

Maggie snorted and bit her lip, grinning at Sergeant Barnes. “Smooth.”

Sergeant Barnes cracked an amused look. “He’s really not.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, we just wanted to say hello,” Agent Romanoff said, nodding to Sergeant Barnes. “We don’t want to interrupt further.”

“Good,” Sergeant Barnes said, glaring at them. “Go away from our table, you’re attracting unwanted attention.”

“Sorry, Buck,” Captain Rogers said, wincing. “Ms. Tsang, it was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she said, watching as the two of them made their way out of the restaurant. She turned and looked at Sergeant Barnes. “So I guess they were following us?”

“Me. Yes.”

“Are you going to be in trouble?”

“No.”

She stared at him, narrowing her eyes. “Your friends just worry about you then.”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Maggie said, nodding. “So how did you like Korean?”

Sergeant Barnes looked down at the food and then up at Maggie. “It’s spicy.”

She chuckled and nodded. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to insult you.”

“It’s fine, Sergeant Barnes; you never know what you like or won’t like unless you try them all. And believe me, there are a million restaurants in New York City, we can try them all if you want.”

Sergeant Barnes nodded. “Can we try Cuban next?”

Maggie laughed. “Sure! I love Cuban. There’s a fantastic place three blocks from here.”

***

Wednesdays became their standing lunch date. Sergeant Barnes met her at her office, sometimes with an idea of what kind of food he wanted to try, the two of them trading off and taking turns choosing restaurants. Maggie discovered that Sergeant Barnes loved food truck goodies, so they spent a great deal of time tracking down their favorite food trucks all over the city. Sergeant Barnes took her out on the back of a vintage-looking motorcycle if they had to travel, quickly and competently motoring through the busy NYC streets and back alleys, all to get the perfect hot dog.

Sergeant Barnes purchased four hot dogs with the works, gave one to her, ate two, and carefully wrapped the remaining hot dog, putting it into a paper bag and tucking it into his hoodie pocket.

“Snack for later?”

“For Steve. He’ll be unhappy if I didn’t bring him back one of these,” Sergeant Barnes explained.

Once a month, Sergeant Barnes was accompanied by one of his friends. Captain Rogers was a frequent and familiar lunch guest and Maggie got a chance to see the two of them interact. When it came to Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers was a born mother hen and Sergeant Barnes was greatly amused by his antics.

“He’s kind of adorably and painfully awkward, isn’t he?” She mentioned, smiling fondly.

“He’s a punk.”

Maggie could tell when Sergeant Barnes found something hysterical from the small tick in his jaw.

Agent Romanoff joined them a couple of times; her teasing demeanor hiding a razor-sharp mind. She stared at Maggie with cold appraisal. Maggie remembered her when she was the competent but aloof Natalie Rushman.

“Knock it off, she’s my friend,” Sergeant Barnes hissed at Agent Romanoff. “You can either quit trying to intimidate her or don’t bother showing up for our lunch.”

Maggie originally thought that Agent Romanoff was suspicious of her intentions towards Sergeant Barnes, but then she realized that maybe Agent Romanoff and Sergeant Barnes had some kind of unspoken history.

“I shot her once; she was trying to protect my mark,” Sergeant Barnes revealed. “I think I’ve known her a long time, but I can’t remember, and she won’t say.”

“Maybe it’s for the best to let the past go?”

“She’s in a relationship with Hawkeye.”

Maggie nodded, looking at him. “Does that…are you mad?”

Sergeant Barnes considered it and took a deep breath. “No. He’s a good man.”

***

The first and last time Tony Stark tagged along for lunch created such a media shit storm of epic proportions that required SHIELD intervention, nearly everyone on the SI legal team, sixteen non-disclosure statements, and a “soft” interrogation by a mild-mannered but scarily competent man called Agent Phil Coulson…until Sergeant Barnes broke through the one-way glass window.

Maggie rode back to Stark Tower in the limo with Tony Stark and Sergeant Barnes.

“Sorry, I am truly, absolutely sorry,” Tony Stark said, grimacing.

Sergeant Barnes bared his teeth and hissed at Tony Stark.

Maggie sighed. “We will never speak of this again. Never.”

***

“Steve asked if we were dating.”

Maggie choked on her mouthful of baked potatoes, spitting it out into a napkin. “What?”

“That’s not very ladylike.”

“Screw you, Barnes, I grew up in BronxChina, I’m a fucking lady all the way through.”

Sergeant Barnes’s jaw ticked, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Did you tell him that we’re just friends?”

“Sure,” he said, shrugging.

“What’s up with him? Men and women can’t be friends?”

“I blame Stark’s bad influence.”

Maggie snickered, giving Sergeant Barnes a sidelong glance. “Yeah. That’s probably true.”

“I don’t remember the last time I had sex.”

She made a moue with her lips. “Don’t get me started.”

“I’m not…not that interested.”

She turned and looked at him. “And that’s perfectly okay. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“There’s plenty wrong with me,” Sergeant Barnes said, giving her a look.

“Okay, that may be true, but the fact that you’re not interested in sex isn’t one of them.”

Sergeant Barnes leaned back on the park bench and let out a deep breath. “My body feels…I feel disconnected.”

“Have you thought about going into therapy? You know, therapy and counseling have come a long way. Sometimes it’s helpful to talk about things with someone with professional experience; someone who can give you some perspective,” she said, grinning.

He shrugged again; Sergeant Barnes wasn’t a talker, but he was a man who took action when it needed taking. There was a good chance that he would seek help.

“Stark gave me a Captain Iron toy.”

Maggie burst out into laughter, scaring off the pigeons into the trees. “I have one, too! I had to wait two weeks because it was always sold out when I tried to order one.” She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, staring at him. “Did you try it?”

Sergeant Barnes made a face. “That’s just…inappropriate.”

She laughed harder, her eyes tearing. “Oh god, Barnes.”

“I brought it with me to breakfast and asked Steve what it was,” Sergeant Barnes said, his lips twitching slightly. “Never saw that boy turn red like that; I thought his head was going to pop.”

“Ohmygod,” she said, giggling. “You are a cruel man, Bucky Barnes.”

Sergeant Barnes closed his eyes and leaned his head back, a small smile on his lips.


	3. Accounting

Junior accounting specialist Heloisa Carvalho had a sweet corner cubicle at the end of a long maze of cubicles. She enjoyed being back in her corner, which was in the quiet part of the cubicle neighborhood, and where she could put on her headphones and jack up her music.

She had lucked out getting a job at Stark Industries, right out of City College with her Bachelors in Economics with a focus on Finance. She could afford a cute one-bedroom apartment on Crescent Street in the Little Brazil neighborhood of Astoria, glad to work in a city where there were touches of familiarity from back home, especially on days when she was missing her mama’s cooking and could get a _feijoada_ just a couple of blocks from her place.

After a year at SI, Heloisa was thinking of a long term place with the company. She wanted to go back to City College to work on her Masters in Economics and Business, even though she didn’t look forward to taking Statistics again. But SI would pay for her tuition and fees and that was more than enough motivation for Heloisa to stay and try and make a career at Stark Industries.

“Thanks, JARVIS,” she said, taking the headphones out of her ears and walking off the elevator on the 23rd floor.

“Have a good day, Ms. Carvalho,” JARVIS said, pleasantly.

The Accounting floor was abuzz with some kind of early morning activity. People were standing in small groups, having coffee and gossiping about the latest goings on at SI, with the Avengers, or just normal office chitchat.

She pulled out the two colorful boxes of _Passatempo_ that her mom had mailed her from Sao Paulo; of course, she kept two boxes at home. Ever since she introduced her office friends of the awesomeness of chocolate-filled vanilla cookies with the weird monkey poses on them, everyone begged her to bring more in.

Not to mention that their cubicles were often decorated with little monkey stickers.

She headed for the designated snack table when she saw that a dozen people were milling around near her corner. Did they already know that she was bringing in _Passatempo_ cookies and they were waiting for her to come into the office? Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise her.

“Ohhh, Carvalho, looks like your boy did it again,” one of her co-workers teased.

“What’s going on?”

Well, life in Stark Tower moved pretty fast and it wasn’t even 8 AM yet. Anything could’ve happened.

“You probably don’t want to go back there.”

Heloisa frowned. “Why?”

She walked past the other cubicles and looked at the people staring at her, partly in amusement, and she stopped when she came to her cubicle.

“Well, that’s not new.”

It looked like a tornado had come through to just her back corner. Two cubicle walls were knocked down and broken in several places, two of the legs on her desk were missing and it had fallen to its side, spilling everything onto the floor, her Ironman coffee mug was cracked in half, her hard drive was smoking slightly and smelled of burnt coffee from the day before, her monitor had a crack across the screen, and the only thing to have survived was her chair.

“Ohh…kay,” she murmured, looking at the mess. “I guess DUM-E was here?”

Someone picked up the heavily bruised flower from the floor. “I think he was trying to leave you this.”

Heloisa looked at the poor, frail, near-dead flower and clucked her tongue. “ _Pobre_ _flor._ _Deus me ajude_.”

“Facilities and IT are on their way to replace everything and set you back up.”

She turned to see Tony Stark walking towards her, the dozens of people quickly darting away back into their cubicles but peeking over the top of the tall walls, watching curiously.

“Mr. Stark!”

Outside of seeing him on the tabloids in a fancy tuxedo or flashy suit, or in his Ironman armor, Tony Stark looked like a normal guy. He was wearing a pair of dark blue work pants, boots, and a Henley. Oddly enough, he was also wearing a dark brown wooly cardigan that was three sizes too big for him. If not for his signature facial hair, this Tony Stark wouldn’t be noticeable at all.

“Look, uh…” He glanced at her name plate on the fallen cubicle wall. “Carvalho, I’m sorry about this, but I honestly don’t know how he’s escaping the workshop. I’m pretty sure he’s had some help getting out—“

“It’s not me,” she said, making a horrified face at him. “I mean, I wouldn’t even know—“

“No, no, I’m not blaming you. I’m thinking it’s more like JARVIS who’s letting him out, but I don’t know why – well, I guess I do know why,” Tony Stark said, a small smile on his face. “Anyway, I don’t want to impose on you – oh, who am I kidding, this is a total imposition, but would you consider taking 15-minutes out of your day to come up to the workshop and visit DUM-E there?”

Heloisa blinked and stared at Tony Stark for a long moment. He stared back at her. He was completely serious.

“You want me to visit him? Everyday?”

“I’ll speak to your manager,” he said, pulling out his StarkPhone and scrolling through his contacts. “Actually, I’ll just ask Pepper and she’ll take care of it.”

“You’re asking our CEO to let me come up and visit DUM-E every day?”

Tony Stark looked at her. “You don’t have to do it, but I can’t guarantee that this won’t continue happening.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what’s so interesting about the Accounting department,” Tony Stark said, staring at her levelly. “I guess that answers that question.”

She crossed her arms in front of her and gave him the stink eye. “DUM-E is just being friendly. He likes visiting the Accounting department because we treat him like…like he’s…”

There was nothing she could say to end that sentence without sounding really kind of crazy. The odd one-armed robot with the terrible name had wandered down to the Accounting department one day. Heloisa was coming out of the staff lounge and tripped over him. DUM-E had made some kind of apologetic sounding whir and helped her back to her desk. And then he just came to visit now and then; the other people in the Accounting department coming over to hang out with him. They were used to DUM-E’s spontaneous visits; Heloisa looked forward to them. For a robot without speech, DUM-E was pretty easy to understand and talk to. It wasn’t like she could actually say that to Tony Stark.

But Tony Stark seemed to like that kind of crazy because he chuckled.

“Yeah, he grows on you, huh? Anyway, think it over. You’ll have to sign some non-disclosure agreements and I need to get your level permit changed with JARVIS so you can access the upper levels.”

“Oh,” she said, dumbly. “Okay.”

Tony Stark looked down at the mess of her cubicle and let out a soft laugh. “I think he was trying to tidy your area.”

Heloisa frowned at him.

“Not that your area needs tidying!” Tony Stark said, backtracking. “I just meant that that’s a function of his programming. It makes him happy to try and tidy up after people. Me. And well, to be honest, he’s not all that great at tidying. Oh look, he broke your Ironman mug. I can get you a new one.”

***

Terry Clark stood in the small doorway of her newly fixed cubicle. “I just had a surreal telephone conversation with Ms. Potts.”

Heloisa spun in her chair, her eyes wide. “I swear that was not my idea, Mr. Clark.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Terry said, chuckling slightly. “I mean, it’s Tony Stark…it’s kind of expected that he’s a bit eccentric.”

She raised her eyebrow at him.

“But I have been asked to authorize you a new duty, completely outside of your current work duties so you’ll be compensated for your time. Ms. Potts also told me to let you know that this is completely voluntary on your part. If you choose to take on this additional new duty, it will be effective today.”

Heloisa grinned, shaking her head. “Okay. Well, I accept.”

Her manager looked relieved and she wondered what would’ve happened if she didn’t accept it. Probably nothing more than DUM-E trying to escape the workshop to visit her.

“Fine, fine. I’ll alert HR of the new conditions of your employment contract. Legal is going to issue you a non-disclosure statement and JARVIS has already keyed in your access to Mr. Stark’s workshop. It’s on the 79th floor. Just let JARVIS know and he’ll take you up there,” Terry said, giving her a small smile. “Good luck. Let me know if you need me to help you with anything.”

“Thanks, Mr. Clark.”

***

Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries, and one of the most admirable women in the world, had asked Heloisa to have a play date with Tony Stark’s robot.

A courier had dropped off a small basket of expensive chocolates and other goodies that Heloisa would never be able to afford on her current salary. She opened the card and grinned, reading Ms. Pott’s handwritten note.

_Dear Ms. Carvalho,_

_I wanted to personally thank you for taking time out of your busy day to accommodate Mr. Stark’s request for you to spend time with DUM-E. We both realize that this is a great imposition on you, but we are grateful for your thoughtful consideration and generosity of your time._

_Warmest regards,_

_Pepper Potts_

Her life couldn’t be weirder.

DUM-E whirred across the workshop towards her, a handmade DUNCE cap hanging from the top of his arm. The metal pinchers spun around, opening and closing, as if he were saying hello.

“Hey, DUM-E,” she said, smiling at the robot. “So this is your place, huh? It’s really cool up here. Much more interesting than Accounting I bet.”

He immediately reached down and grabbed her sleeve, tugging her after him across the workshop.

“DUM-E, remember the rules,” Tony Stark called out, spinning on his work stool, keeping an eye on them.

She watched as DUM-E opened and closed his metal pinchers at Tony Stark in such a way that she thought DUM-E would’ve given him the finger if he could. From the unimpressed look on Tony Stark’s face, it probably was the robot equivalent. Heloisa found that utterly hilarious.

He tugged her gently around the large workshop, showing her two other large one-armed robots, one named BUTTERFINGERS and another named YOU, and Heloisa wondered what was wrong with Tony Stark to give them such terrible names. DUM-E made a series of interesting noises, directing her to look at things that seemed to matter to him – a table with some tools, an old-fashioned jukebox, a bunch of electronic equipment, a broom, the fire extinguisher, and then to a corner of the workshop that had a number of sketches of DUM-E, the other robots, and Tony, all scotched-tape to the walls.

“These are really nice drawings of you,” she said, smiling.

DUM-E led her to the small wet bar and reached down to pick up a gelatinous green liquid in a large cup. He handed it to her and Heloisa took it, looking at the, frankly, gross contents. It even had a weird smell. But her mama always taught her to be polite, especially when it came to someone (or something) offering her food or drink. She might not eat all of it, but the polite thing was to take a sip or a small bite.

“Thanks—“

“No! Don’t drink that!” Tony Stark yelled, pushing off his stool and hurrying towards her. He grabbed the cup from her hand and frowned, looking at the liquid. “What the hell did you put in here, DUM-E?” He sniffed it again. “It smells like motor oil. How did you get motor oil, DUM-E? DUM-E! You cannot give her a motor oil smoothie! What’re you trying to do? Poison her?”

DUM-E’s arm drooped down and he made a soft whirring noise that Heloisa took for as an apology.

“It’s okay, DUM-E,” she said, smiling at him. “I already had lunch so I’m not hungry. But thanks.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Tony Stark told her, dumping the contents into the sink. “And don’t accept food items from him without consulting me first.”

“So, um, Mr. Stark? What do you want me to do with DUM-E?”

Tony Stark chuckled. “I don’t know. What do you do when he visits you?”

“He watches me work on payroll spreadsheets.”

He blinked and then stared at her.

She stared at him right back.

DUM-E rotated his arm over her head and made what was probably his version of a laugh.

“You’re messing with me right now, aren’t you?” Tony Stark said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Probably,” she said, shrugging. “Come on, DUM-E, show me something else.” She put her hand on one of his struts and walked with him across the workshop back to his corner. “What do you want me to bring tomorrow? Do you want to play a game? JARVIS, can DUM-E play games?”

“Yes, DUM-E is quite adept at playing a variety of games,” JARVIS told her. “Although, he will require a great deal of patience when you teach him the rules.”

Heloisa laughed. “Why, does he cheat?”

“Yes,” JARVIS said, sounding amused.

“Yes!” Tony Stark yelled in aggrieved tones.

DUM-E whirred.

She thought it sounded like joy.


	4. Kent Organic Coffee and Tea Service

Bobby Kent had a dream: He would build a portable organic coffee and tea service business in the heart of New York City.

For the most part, it was a reachable dream; after all, dreams came true in the Big Apple. He knew that he’d probably have to start small, invest in a cart, and get a license to be a street vendor. Getting a street vendor license was nearly impossible in NYC, but Bobby Kent had served his country in the Marines, and being a veteran sure helped get his street vendor license approved.

He set up shop on the corner, often partnering with a friendly food truck, and started up his business of selling organic and free trade coffee and tea. The hipster kids got what he was doing and Bobby got a quick introduction to social media marketing. He’d set up his cart, hashtag it on his Twitter, and waited for his regular customers to find him. It was hard work, with long hours on his feet, moving his cart from corner to corner. Sometimes, there was harassment, but Bobby kept his baseball bat handy. He expected to have to work the grind for a few years, get established, and then start making his way into companies, develop a relationship where he could take on flat-fee contracts and bring coffee and tea service right to the people’s desks.

Then one day, a limo slid up to the curb next to him, and the window rolled down.

“Hey! I need a large coffee, biggest cup you got!” The man inside hollered out to Bobby.

“Sure, what kind would you like? I have dark roast, medium—“

“Industrial strength,” the man said, popping his head out the window.

Bobby nearly dropped the cup. “Hey, you’re Ironman!”

Tony Stark grinned, pulling down his sunglasses and looking up at Bobby. “Will I get a discount if I say that I am?”

He laughed. “Honestly, this one’s on me, Mr. Stark. We all appreciate your redesign of our lightweight interceptor body armor. Stark Industries saved a lot of lives overseas.”

Tony Stark looked at him. “Army?”

“Marines, sir,” he said, chuckling. He handed over the cup. “Have a good one, Mr. Stark.”

Tony Stark handed him a hundred dollar bill. “What’s your name?”

“Bobby Kent,” he said, gesturing proudly to the sign on his cart. “Kent Organic Coffee and Tea Service.” He winked at Tony Stark. “You can follow me on Twitter.”

Tony Stark pulled out his StarkPhone and keyed it in. “All right, I got you now.” He took a sip of the coffee and let out a pleased sigh. “That is one damn good cup of coffee, Bobby!”

Bobby smiled, tucking the C-note into his pocket. He gave Tony Stark a quick salute and chuckled as the limo pulled away from the curb, rejoining the NYC traffic.

“Damn, I should’ve taken a picture!” Bobby said to himself, shaking his head.

***

Over the next few weeks, Bobby wasn’t surprised when the familiar limo pulled up to the curb next to him and the window rolled down. He had Tony Stark’s order ready and handed it to him.

“I read on your Twitter that you’re trying to become a cart service for businesses,” Tony Stark said, leaning against the limo door and sipping his coffee.

“It’s like a perk for company staff; the company picks up the bill for coffee and tea, staff can get their caffeine addictions served to them right at their desks,” Bobby said, grinning. “And I work with only organic and free trade producers, keeping it green and honest.”

Tony Stark nodded. “You got a business proposal?”

Bobby chuckled. “Not on me.”

“Have one ready for tomorrow’s pick up,” Tony Stark told him, giving him a nod and disappearing back into the limo.

He watched as the limo pulled away. “Whoa, did that actually happen?”

***

The next day, the limo appeared and Tony Stark stepped out first, then turned and held his hand out for a woman with beautiful strawberry blonde hair.

“Bobby, this is Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries. Pep, this is Bobby Kent.”

Bobby wiped his hand clean and held it out to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Potts.”

Pepper smiled, shaking his hand. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Kent. Mr. Stark tells me that you have a unique approach for your business. I’d love to read your business proposal if you have one.”

“I sure do,” he said, reaching into his cart and pulling out a folder with a clear cover, the nine pages of his business plan neatly typed and stapled. “Thank you for taking a look at it. I appreciate your time.”

“Well, when Mr. Stark told me about a way to generate a new type of SI employee reward system, I had to find out about it myself,” she said, looking at the things on his cart. “Could I sample your coffees and teas, Mr. Kent?”

“Of course,” he said, showing her to the front of his cart where he had printed out his specialty menu of coffee blends and teas.

The thing about Pepper Potts was that she was informed in the areas of organic farming and free trade.

“Coffee is traded on major futures and commodities exchanges, especially at the New York Stock Exchange; though I believe that Arabica and Robusta are the two main types of coffee,” she said, taking a sip at the dark roast.

“Robusta is sold for 70% of the price of Arabica, popular with the Big Four,” Tony Stark said, scrolling through his StarkPhone and drinking down his coffee.

Pepper nodded, a small smile on her face. “Hmm…I love the richness of this flavor. It’s so different from getting something at a retail chain.”

“Not that I have anything against retail chains and their business model – I can’t compete with what they have in terms of money and resources, but I think my suppliers are real dedicated farmers, people who care about the continued prosperity of our farmable lands.”

Pepper nodded, smelling the loose tea leaves. “Where do you get your coffee?”

“Honduras,” he said, proudly. “I buy from a consortium of coffee farmers who only use organic fertilizer, mostly coffee pulp.”

She smiled, pleased, and exchanged looks with Tony Stark.

“It was a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kent.”

“Likewise, ma’am,” he said, shaking her hand again.

Tony Stark winked at Bobby as he helped Pepper Potts back into the limo.

***

And two years later, Stark Industries was his biggest client; Bobby had to get two new carts and hired a small team of hipster college grads to help him run his business. He loved being on the cart; he wasn’t the kind of guy who was a desk jockey. He had to be out in the field.

Being welcomed into SI was like being part of a secret club; not unlike being part of the military. And even though SI was out of the weapons business, their culture still reflected that kind of insider versus outsider mentality. If you weren’t part of SI, you were on the outside. Bobby wasn’t an SI employee, but he was under contract, and his access was pretty open. It helped that he had a service record of distinction, made getting to the upper levels of the Tower a lot easier.

He pulled his truck into the underground parking garage, a reserved spot for him. He set up his cart and moved towards the elevator.

“Good morning, Mr. Kent.”

“Hi, JARVIS. How them hanging?”

“They appear to be ‘hanging’ quite well, thank you,” JARVIS said, amusement in his tone.

Bobby chuckled. “I bet they are, JARVIS. To Ms. Pott’s floor, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

The elevator stopped on the 78th floor and Bobby made his way to Pepper Pott’s office. He smiled at Pepper’s executive assistant, a wonderful lady named Brenda Collins.

“Good morning, Ms. Collins,” he said, setting her medium roast, one creamer, three Splendas on her desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Kent. Ms. Potts isn’t in right now, but she’s expecting you,” Brenda said, opening the door for him.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling at her. She was a real beauty and classy and nice; way out of his league.

He knew that Pepper Potts wasn’t a coffee drinker and when he introduced her to flowering teas and how beautiful they looked into a clear teapot, she had asked him to set it up for her on her desk, a perfect gift when she returned to her office after a morning meeting.

She didn’t have a special preference for teas, as long as they were flavorful and leaned to the sweet side rather than bitter, and he started a white tea for her that would blossom pink and white. He set up her teapot, left her two cups, and set her teapot on a portable warmer. The aroma of the white tea started to fill the room and Bobby cleaned up her desk and headed out to make the rest of his rounds.

“I’ll be back after my last customer to pick up the teapot,” he told Brenda, wheeling slowly past her.

Brenda grinned and nodded. “I’ll be here.”

***

Bobby stepped off the 75th floor and wheeled his cart into the private lab belonging to Dr. Bruce Banner. The soft-spoken man was staring at his computer screen, chewing on the end of his glasses.

“Hey, Dr. Banner,” Bobby said, smiling at him.

“Oh, Mr. Kent, you’re a life saver,” Bruce Banner said, sitting up and putting on his glasses. “I could really use a pick me up right about now.”

“Would you like your usual or maybe try something new? How about a nice oolong blend today?”

Bruce Banner curled his shoulders in and took a deep breath. “Yeah, that sounds really nice. Thanks. Thank you, Mr. Kent.”

Bobby steeped the loose tea leaves, letting it sit for a couple of minutes, and poured out the tea into a large, wide-rimmed mug. He set it on the table in front of Bruce Banner. “There you go, Doc.”

He watched as Bruce Banner took a sip, a pleased smile on his tired face.

“It’s really good. I might have to drink this for a few days before going back to my usual,” he said, taking a deep breath.

“No problem; I’ll have more of it for you this week, Doc.”

Bobby began to clean up his cart, keeping out the way to not distract Bruce Banner from his work. He always found it kind of incredible that the scientist in front of him became the pretty damn incredible Hulk. Bobby had seen a lot in his time, but he’d never encountered anyone as unique as Bruce Banner.

“Damn it,” Bruce Banner said, throwing his glasses on top of his table. He rubbed at his eyes and then took a deep, calming breath. He reached for his mug and grabbed it too hard, cracking it and spilling tea everywhere.

“Whoa! Man down,” Bobby said, grabbing a tea towel and heading towards Bruce Banner. “Hey, let me get that for you, Doc.”

Bruce Banner was looking frustrated and kind of green around the edges; Bobby wasn’t sure if he could handle being in the presence of the Hulk. What if the Hulk didn’t like Bobby being so close by?

“Hey, Doc, did I ever tell you about the time at boot camp that our drill instructor turned one of the kids into a ghost?” Bobby said, grinning widely. “True story.”

He started to steep another pot of tea, doing what he could to distract Bruce Banner from getting too upset.

Bruce Banner stared at him, his mouth opening slightly. “I didn’t think that Marines believed in such things.”

“Oh yeah, we believe in anything while at boot. So this one kid was on fire watch, that’s when you stand on deck and you salute and report your post to the senior officer, but he must’ve been day dreaming or something because he didn’t see our drill instructor coming on deck. So the DI went to the racks, kicked it, and said, ‘BAM! You’re dead!’ And the kid got all shook up and tried to report, but the DI said, ‘you’re a ghost now, you can’t talk, go act like a ghost, Casper! That’s your name from now on. Casper!’”

Bruce Banner made a face and shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

“So this kid had to wander around the squad bay for the rest of his two-hour fire watch, acting like a damn ghost, and he took some pride in that. He couldn’t talk, but he’d make all kinds of ghost noises like ‘ _Oooooohooooohoohohoooo_ ’ and walk around and shake people’s racks, scaring the crap out of them. We were all laughing so hard at the kid until the senior drill instructor came to check out what all the ruckus was about. One of us had to explain to him why the kid couldn’t talk; he wasn’t being insubordinate, just that the other DI told him that he was dead and he couldn’t talk because he was a ghost!”

Bobby watched as Bruce Banner chuckled, uncurling his shoulders a little and turning to look at him. He filled the mug with the tea and set it on the table in front of Bruce Banner.

“Thanks. So what happened after that?” Bruce Banner asked, taking a slow sip of the tea.

He laughed, wiping his hands on a clean tea towel. “Well, the first DI who told the kid to be a ghost was reprimanded and the rest of us all got double duty during our fire watch.”

“But what about the kid? Casper?”

Bobby smiled. “Nothing happened to him. He was just following orders like a good Marine.”

He watched Bruce Banner mull that one over; Bobby unlocked the wheels of his cart and turned it around.

“Have a good one, Doc, see you tomorrow.”

Bruce Banner smiled, nodding his head. “Thanks, Mr. Kent. I appreciated the story.”

They looked at each other meaningfully. Bobby gave him a quick salute and headed into the hallway to the elevator. He nearly slammed into Tony Stark on his way out.

“Hey, Mr. Stark, good to see you,” Bobby said, greeting him warmly.

Tony Stark leaned against the wall, giving Bobby a look. “JARVIS alerted me that Bruce might need containment and that you were in the lab with him.”

Bobby understood right away. “The Doc’s all right now. He just needed some of my awesome organic tea.”

“That’s not the only thing he needed,” Tony Stark said, pushing off the wall and meeting Bobby’s eyes. “Thanks, for looking out for him.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he gave Tony Stark a nod of understanding.

“Great, now that I don’t need to get out the Ironman suit and wrangle the Hulk,” Tony Stark said, rubbing his hands together. “You got any of that dark roast left in your tank?”

Bobby laughed, reaching for a large paper cup. “Coming right up, Mr. Stark.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCE: I couldn't think of an amusing military boot camp story so I adapted one from here: http://taskandpurpose.com/funniest-punishments-military-reddit/


End file.
